A couple of years ago there was a study all over the news. The researchers videotaped familes and discovered they couldn’t observe the kind of interactions they were interested in testing because the people wouldn’t stay in the same room with each other.

Dad walked in, kid walked out. Mom walked in. Dad walked out.

It horrified me.

A. Because we can’t expect people to form loving bonds with their family or neighbors, we can’t expect them to develop empathy if they can’t stay in the same room with each other. It reminded me of crack babies unable to be held. We are destroyed before we start.

B. Because I saw this behavior in myself.

R: Mommy, Mommy come color with me in the t.v. room.
D: Ok, let me just get a cup of tea from the kitchen.
R: Mommy dress my dolls with me in my bedroom.
D: Ok, I just need to sort the laundry in my room, bring in the mail from outside, check my email in my office. . .

I could justify all these actions, but I know it wasn’t housewifery. I felt like an oppositely charged magnet: Rose came near; I had to leave.

The study made me more conscious of my behavior and helped me decide if I really needed to leave the room (because don’t get me wrong, I believe we all need some space) or if I was just being interpersonally lazy. So, I’m trying to be around more.

And then there are moments of grace.

Shake, Rattle, and Roll bopping out of John’s computer speakers. He’s sitting in his office chair d.j.ing a c.d. for a wedding we are going to. He keeps checking to see if I am as charged by the music as he is. I can’t stand still. I keep dancing around the room, making eyes at him, wiggling my hips at Rose. Rose dances with me. Then I sit down to nurse David and Rose tells me to keep dancing with my shoulders and my head. She shows me how. David quits nursing and goes to play with his train set. Rose puts a box on her head and lets it fall off. We all watch David’s face go wide with amazement and then burst into giggles. We are all looking at each other. We are all laughing.